


Socks

by InsideMyBrain



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, I literally have no idea how to tag this, I've never written these guys before I hope it's okay, Lemonberry ice, Losing Things, M/M, Mild Blood, Multi, Non-Graphic Descriptions Of Bodily Harm, Polyamory, Slight fluff, Uhhh Mentions of Espionage?, VFD Shenanigans(tm), an ankle gets twisted and there's a little blood that's all, attempted humour, it's the vfd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideMyBrain/pseuds/InsideMyBrain
Summary: Lemony loses an immensely important pair of socks.





	Socks

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had this planned as a longer story for a different fandom, but i thought it was the sort of stuff lemony and the gang would get up to, so i wrote this. enjoy!

Bertrand had long become accustomed to interruptions. Lemony and Beatrice were the type that, whenever an opportunity presented itself, had to act on it immediately. As lovers it was enjoyable, but as partners it was rather bothersome. He was constantly dragged into plots and ideas and unnecessary 3 AM conversations, often disrupting his own plans. The twinkle in Beatrice's eye and Lemony's knowing smirk, however, managed to convince him to go along with it every time.

So when Lemony burst into the library one evening, yelling something about socks, Bertrand simply put down his book and sighed.

"What's going on?" Bertrand asked, watching Lemony race around the room, looking under and behind things.

"My socks!" Lemony answered shortly, shoving aside a section of books to look in a secret panel in a shelf. "I've lost an immensely important pair of socks."

"An immensely important pair of socks," Bertrand repeated dryly. "What-" he started to say, but was interrupted by Beatrice.

"What's all the yelling about?" she asked, entering the library. The door banged shut behind her, accentuating the word _about_.

"Have you seen my socks?" Lemony called, now pulling up the cushions on their couch to look under them.

"Which ones?" Beatrice asked bemusedly.

"They're green - a bright, acid green. I just got them, and haven't worn them yet," Lemony told her, out of breath from racing around so much.

"Can I ask _why_ exactly these socks are so important?" Bertrand said quickly, before Beatrice could respond.

"I have to wear them on the train out of the City in two days," Lemony explained. "They have numbers on the inside R needs."

Bertrand put his book down and stood up. Beatrice looked ready to jump into action as well. "Then we'd better find them," he said. A grateful, but stressed smile flashed across Lemony's face.

"Where did you last see them?" Beatrice asked him.

"By the front door," said Lemony. "They came in an envelope yesterday. I just left them by the door, on top of the envelope, so I wouldn't forget them."

Bertrand furrowed his brow. "They couldn't have just got up and walked away by themselves. Are you sure you didn't move them and forget about it?"

"I'm sure," Lemony snapped, a little too defensive.

"Where haven't you looked?" Beatrice asked, her tone gentle and soothing.

"The basement-" Lemony said, then appeared to realize something. "The basement!"

"Laundry." Beatrice confirmed what they were all thinking, and the three of them rushed out of the library.

Once they'd all thumped down the rickety basement steps, they began rifling through laundry baskets; Lemony was the most careless, tossing Beatrice's bras and his silk ties on the floor in pursuit of his socks. Luckily, Beatrice and Lemony owned so much black clothing that a pair of violently verdant socks would stick out like a sore thumb. _This will be easy,_ Bertrand thought, dodging a shirt Lemony had thrown.

Alas, they couldn't find the socks. They'd combed through every laundry basket in the house, and they were nowhere to be found. They were all frustrated, but Lemony was downright agitated. He'd always been a fidgeter, but his incessant tapping on every hard surface within reach was beginning to annoy Bertrand.

"Where else could they be?" He asked, despair creeping into the edges of his voice.

"You're sure you've looked everywhere else?" Bertrand asked him. 

"I'm sure," Lemony said tiredly. He groaned and put his head in his hands. "I can't believe I lost them. R will never trust me again."

"Come on, Lem," Bertrand said. "We still have time to find them. We know they couldn't have left the house, so we'll just double-check all the rooms. We're bound to find them. Let's go."

Lemony nodded, and the two started towards the stairs. Beatrice remained where she was, an expression of realization and guilt on her face.

"Bea?" Bertrand said. She looked up.

"I know where they are," Beatrice said.

Lemony was by her side in an instant. "Where?" he cried jubilantly. It was amazing, Bertrand reflected, how he could change his entire attitude and demeanour so quickly. Bertrand had never been able to do that - probably why he failed disguise training so many times as a young initiate.

Beatrice squirmed. "Well, I don't exactly know _where_ they are, but I know who has them."

Both Lemony and Bertrand's faces twisted in confusion. "Who?" Bertrand asked. 

"Olaf." said Beatrice.

"How do you know?" said Bertrand.

"Also, how?" Lemony added. "He couldn't have broken in, the security is much too complex for him to figure out." He and Bertrand shared a chuckle.

Beatrice didn't smile. "I let him in," she admitted.

"What?" asked Lemony.

"Why?" asked Bertrand.

"He was drunk, said he needed a word..." Beatrice sighed unhappily. "I figured it couldn't hurt. He was only here for about five minutes before I kicked him out. He must have grabbed the socks on his way out."

Lemony and Bertrand were silent for a moment, thinking. Then Bertrand turned to Lemony. "Do you know what the numbers are for?" 

Lemony shook his head. "It's a fragmentary plot."

"Good," said Bertrand, "then neither does he."

"So all we have to do is steal them back," Beatrice added.

"Alright," said Lemony. "Let's go." He started towards the staircase again, and Beatrice followed.

"Right now?" Bertrand asked.

"We haven't any time to lose," Beatrice reminded him.

"True," Bertrand conceded, then followed them up the stairs.

* * *

 

"How much longer are we going to have to wait? I'm freezing and this bush is scratchy."

"Why don't we go back to the car? We can turn the heat on in there."

"Sh! He's coming this way."

Bertrand and Beatrice stopped muttering as Olaf exited his house and walked past the bush the three were hiding in. He got into his car and pulled out of the driveway. Lemony waited until the car was out of sight before speaking again.

"Alright, let's go in."

The three scrambled out of the bush, brushing leaves off their clothes. They approached the front door, and Lemony jiggled the handle. Locked.

"Lockpick?" he whispered. Beatrice took it out of her pocket and handed it to him. He stuck it in the lock, twisted it, and the door creaked open.

The trio stepped inside Olaf's house cautiously. The place was a mess. Coats and shoes were tossed carelessly all over the front entrance, and it smelled like something had died in there. Knowing Olaf, something probably had. The floor tiles were cracked and broken, trash and empty bottles were scattered over the foyer. The main staircase was crumbling, and the wooden floorboards were beginning to rot. It was almost pitch dark; the only light came from some moonlight that filtered in from the grimy, eye-shaped windows.

"Gross," Bertrand whispered.

"Let's spread out," suggested Beatrice. "Look for anything bright green."

Bertrand and Lemony nodded, and the three split up. Beatrice started up the creaky stairs, Bertrand ventured straight ahead to the kitchen, and Lemony entered the parlour to the right.

Bertrand crept along, trying to ignore the sense of apprehension tying itself into a knot in his stomach. _Everything is going to be fine,_ he reassured himself, checking in Olaf's cupboards. He saw a little family of rats, but no socks. He closed it and moved on. _We'll find the socks and be out of here soon. Just keep looking._ He did so, checking every crack and crevice in the kitchen. When he was satisfied the socks weren't in the kitchen, he moved on to the dining room. 

The dining room was even darker than the kitchen, and Bertrand had to squint to see where he was going. Broken pates and cups were piled on the floor, and Bertrand wobbled unsteadily on his feet. Then, he felt something give way, and his right ankle rolled. Sharp pain shot through his ankle and he fell, a piece of a broken plate piercing the hand he put out to catch himself.

"Ah, ah!" Bertrand cried out in pain. He pulled the piece of china out of his palm, and blood began to pool in his hand. His ankle was twisted, but he needed to focus on his hand now. With his good hand, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to his palm, trying to stem the flow of blood.

"Bertrand?"

Bertrand looked up. Lemony was standing in the doorway.

"What happened?" He walked closer, treading carefully.

"I just twisted my ankle," Bertrand told him. "Can you help me up?"

Lemony complied, slinging Bertrand's arm over his shoulder. Bertrand struggled to his feet. 

"Beatrice found them," Lemony said, as Bertrand began to limp out of the room. "So we can go now."

Bertrand sighed in relief. "Let's get out of here."

They walked slowly - or in Bertrand's case, limped - to the front entrance, where Beatrice was waiting. She held up a bundle of electric green fabric, smirking triumphantly. "I told you everything was going to be - Bertrand?" She cut herself off worriedly as she noticed the limp. 

"I twisted my ankle," he explained, "but I'm alright. Let's get out of here."

Beatrice threw her arm around him, kissed him, and said, "let's."

* * *

 

Two days later, Lemony sat on the bottom step as he tied his shoes. The brilliantly green socks protruded prominantly over the tops of his black loafers. He finished tying his shoes and stood up.

"Ready?" Beatrice asked, holding his coat. He took it from her, that knowing smirk illuminating his features.

"Ready." He put on the coat.

Bertrand handed him his hat. "When will you be back?"

"Before lunchtime," he answered, putting this hat on. Lemony kissed the both of them, then walked to the door. 

"Be safe!" Bertrand called.

"We love you!" said Beatrice.

"I love you two, too," he said, then gave them a smile before shutting the door behind him.


End file.
